


If It Turns Out This Is A Hoax...

by lar_laughs



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: intoabar, Gen, felicity saves the day, todd always comes looking for john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is supposed to meet Dig for drinks.  Instead, she meets Todd and saves herself from becoming a Wraith snack by using her wits and her words.  (written for the prompt: Felicity walks into a bar and meets... Todd)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Turns Out This Is A Hoax...

It’s been a rough summer. The rebuilding of the Glades has consumed the resources of the city and it’s all anyone can talk about. For the first time, everyone cares about what happens at the Glades. Some say it’s the best thing that could have happened but Felicity has a hard time believing that so much death and destruction could be good. Surely there was a better way to clean up a problem.

She’s supposed to be meeting Dig for drinks but he’s running the kind of late that will probably make this date will become part of a string of non-existent dates that will turn into a funny story they’ll laugh about later. Felicity isn’t doing much laughing now. As understanding as she’s tried to be, he’s running late because Carly called with a last-minute request for help. It’s hard to compete with a ghost and she’s still not so sure that he’s given up all hope that Carly will come around to seeing him as more than her brother-in-law.

Just in case, she calls his cell. It goes right to voice mail so she leaves yet another message in what she hopes still sounds like a calm, confident woman instead of the hoyden she fears she’s become. “Hey, Dig. It’s Felicity. I’m just walking into the bar now so it’s not like you’re horribly late. Come by when you’re done. I’ll be here for awhile. This is as good as any place to run that check for Oliver. They’ve got Wi-Fi and I need Wi-Fi. What a perfect relationship.”

Felicity laughs but she’s not sure why. The joke wasn’t funny and she’s not nervous. If anything, she’s pissed and the laughter was to disguise the fact that she’s nearly growling at him when she should be offering up light banter.

“But if you can’t, you can’t. We’ll try again for a time when you’re not busy. It’ll be... oh, shit.”

It’s overcast outside because it hasn’t stopped raining since the faux-earthquake struck the city. It shouldn’t be hard for her eyes to adjust to the dim light but Felicity blinks several more times, trying to force her eyes to focus properly. She’s staring at a group of men out of a science fiction movie but she hasn’t heard of anything being filmed in the city. That’s the sort of thing she would know about right away from any of a number of her online contacts.

So if they aren’t actors in really convincing stage makeup, Felicity isn’t sure what she’s looking at. Her first thought is _Aliens_ but she doesn’t believe in that sort of thing. The moon landing was an elaborate hoax brought about to pacify a generation of Americans who were intent on beating the Russians at a silly game of _Guess Who Gets to Space First_ that neither of them had a hope of winning. So the higher ups came up with the idea to show it on TV because the typical American (and the residents of Starling City are very much typical Americans) will believe anything they see on TV.

She has the insane urge to walk up and touch one of their faces, just to prove to herself that it’s been done by a very good makeup artist. It’s right up there with the insane urge to run, screaming. Instead, she mumbles into the phone, “I think you should get down here as soon as you can. Maybe bring back up. Maybe a ray gun,” before she slides it into her purse and raises her hands into the air. Whatever these guys are, they don’t look happy and she’s not about to get herself shot for doing something stupid.

Saying something stupid... well, she never was very good at controlling her tongue during the best of times and this is most definitely one of those moments when her nerves are getting the best of her. “Have you heard the joke about the girl who walked into a bar... and discovered she was part of an elaborate hoax?” When no one answers right away, she replies, “Yeah, me either.”

“Hoax?” One of the men detaches himself from the rest of the group. “What is... hoax?” 

As he gets closer, Felicity can’t help but look appreciatively at his costume. It is, by far, the best she’s ever seen of this genre. That’s saying something since she’s been known to take off work for weeks at a time to travel around to the different sci-fi conventions around the country. His hair is silvery-green in a way that only artificial hair can be, even though it doesn’t look like it’s attached like the typical wig, but his robe isn’t a costume. The material looks soft and lived-in, not something that’s been pulled out of the closet to be worn once or twice a year. This guy is the real deal.

From the way he speaks English, it’s clear that he isn’t a native speaker but she can’t process where his accent is from. Each word’s chopped off from the others, as if he has to contemplate his word choice. The deep grind of his voice makes her shiver, but not in a good way. Not the way she shivers when Dig gets into his bass register and each word is like a caress. This is reminiscent of putting her tongue on a 9-volt battery; each tiny jolt didn’t kill her but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Hoax is what I hope this is.” She thought about saying more on that topic but decides to hold her tongue, an uncharacteristic move on her part but a smart one, nonetheless. Instead, she ducks her head and attempts to make herself appear smaller, or what Oliver calls her Hedgehog Face. “I’m going to leave now.” 

When she turns back to the door, another of these strange men is standing sentry and now effectively barring her exit. He doesn’t look the sort that will let her barge past him so she stands her ground. All the training Dig’s been packing into her head finally comes to play and Felicity finds herself surveying the room again, this time with an eye to making the most of her resources if things get scary. Well, scarier because she can see that those aren’t masks on their faces and she’s more than a little freaked out right now.

“What do you want?” Something tells her she should have started this conversation with that line instead of waiting until now to pull it out. It can only help her to figure out what they want, even if it proves to be something she can’t help with.

“I’ve come looking for John Sheppard.”

The way he says the name makes her shudder. It’s a good reminder to not give him her name because she can only imagine how it’ll sound coming out in that deep cadence.

“I don’t know anyone with that name. But,” she pulls out her cell phone again, “if you give me some more details, I’ll see if I can’t look him up for you. Any chance he has anything to do with this bar? Is that why’re you’re here? Did anyone else know who he is?”

For the first time, Felicity looks around and realizes that she and this band of freaks are the only ones in what is usually a pretty happening place. There should be all kinds of people here tonight. She made a complete circle to make sure that she hadn’t missed anyone huddling in a corner. Nope. They were all gone.

“Do I want to know where everyone is?” she asks, clutching her phone as if it might suddenly turn into a gun or, better yet, a lethally sharp knife.

“They were allowed to... leave. With my compliments.”

Even as the leader gives his assurances, one of the men beside him gives a smirk and a stifled laugh. It doesn’t make her happy. As if noticing her revulsion, the leader turns around and speaks to the other man in a language Felicity doesn’t recognize. The geek side of her wonders if it’s Klingon but she would recognize that language seeing as she once dated a guy in college who only spoke Klingon on Saturdays. This sounds like something else entirely.

She doesn’t have time for speculation on whether all the customers here tonight were truly allowed to leave or, seeing as this was turning into a science fiction nightmare, led to a large room where they would be fed on until only their skeleton remained. All she can do is save herself. To do that, she needs information.

“John Sheppard.” She types his name into the search engine her phone uses and hits SEND. Since she expects it’ll take awhile to wade through all the data they’ll get from such a broad prompt, she decides to keep up her line of questioning. “Okay. Anything else you can help me out with? Where does he live? What’s his job? Hair and eye color? Maybe a date of birth, even?”

There’s some more conversation between the group before the leader turns back around. “John Sheppard lives on Atlantis but the city is currently here, on this planet. We have come seeking his help with a... problem.”

“Atlantis? As in... the casino in Vegas or the legend about the underwater city?” They all begin nodding and she enters the additional information into the search. “Look, I don’t know how to help you with the second but I can give you directions to Vegas. That should be easy enough to find. If he’s there-”

She’s interrupted by her phone as it begins to ring. It’s a blocked number but that could mean anyone these days, especially someone who might be of help. Maybe even Dig or Oliver, realizing that she needs help.

“Hello?”

“State your name, location and reason for looking for John Sheppard.”

Convinced she’s being messed with in an incredibly unfunny way, Felicity looks at her phone again before putting it back against her ear. “Excuse me?”

“State your name, location and reason for looking for John Sheppard,” the monotone states again.

“I’m not even sure if I’m looking for... wait. How did you know I was looking for John Sheppard?”

“Ma’am, state your name-”

She’s had enough of this farce. “Look, I’m not giving anyone my name. I’ve got a bunch of guys here in strange stage makeup who are looking for John Sheppard and I have a feeling they aren’t going to let me go until they get their information. Seeing as how I have other places to be tonight,” like home, alive, “I’d prefer you give me the information I’m looking for before I have to get nasty and ask for your supervisor.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Just like that, she’s on hold. She waits silently for a little less than a minute before another man gets on the phone. “Ma’am, this is General O’Neill. I’d like to know your interest in John Sheppard.”

General? And what kind of hold does the military have on her search engine? Or was it the fact that she used her phone? She is an idiot in so many ways, Felicity decides. Whoever this John Sheppard is, he’s not just a guy who works as a bouncer in Las Vegas.

She lowers her phone as she glances up at the strange men. “What’s your name? I need to give them a name.”

“You can call me... Todd.”

Saying that name has an immediate response on the other end of the phone line. Apparently, they’ve tracked down her location (but, of course, they have!) from whatever signal they used to find her in the first place, because she gets a terse, “Stay where you are,” before the line goes dead.

Almost as soon as she realizes she’s been hung up on, the phone rings again. This time, it’s a familiar number but she’s not sure if she should answer it. “Hello?” she asks tentatively, when normally she would answer with a flippant remark.

“Felicity, why did I just get a message from an old army buddy that they could use some help extracting a woman from the same bar we were supposed to meet at tonight?”

She eyes the men who have gone back to a quiet conversation between themselves. Since they didn’t seem irritated that she was on the phone, Felicity decided to lay it all out for Dig.

“Maybe because I walked into something I wasn’t quite prepared for. You should have a message from me where I tell you to _get down here_.” She hisses the last few words, turning slightly away from the main group only to be reminded that there is still one of them by the door. “But an old army buddy calls and you pick up? Nice, Dig. Really nice.”

“Are you okay?”

“Would the United States Government have called you if I was okay?”

There’s a grunt and then nothing else until Felicity can hear the roar of an engine. “Stay there, baby. I’ll be there in five minutes. Tops.”

“Five minutes and it might be too late,” she mutters but he’s not there to care that she’s concerned. Still, it’s nice to know that he’s coming if she can’t figure this out.

She straightens. “Okay, here’s the deal. General O’Neill - does that name sound familiar? He was on the phone. Seems the name of your friend tripped something and he’s coming to get you. Will that work for you?”

“General O’Neill?” He rolls the name around on this tongue, testing it to see what else he might remember about the man. “He’s someone that can help me?”

“Sounds like it. So, I’m going to go. It’s been... interesting.” She turns to the door and the man there has slid away. Her way is clear but she takes a moment to turn back around. “Let’s not do it again, okay?”

“O... kay.”

“Did you really let all the people here go free? Are they in any danger?” She holds up a hand. “No, don’t tell me. The General can deal with that issue. I’ve done enough for humanity today.”

They’re gone by the time Dig pulls up to the curb in his black SUV. She slides on to the passenger seat even though her own car is only parked a block away. Tonight, of all nights, she doesn’t feel like driving home alone. “Ah, it’s my knight in his shiny steed. You’re a little late to save any damsels tonight.”

“This is where I apologize for not following through with our plans, isn’t it.”

She likes that he doesn’t make it a question but a statement of fact. Yes, she would like an apology but she would never demand one. Instead, she gives him a smile and leans her head to the side as she silently waits to see what happens.

“You want to go somewhere and get a drink? Maybe talk about this.”

“A drink?” She lets out a short bark of sarcastic laughter. “No, I don’t particularly want a drink but I do want to talk about us.”

“Is there still an us to talk about?”

“Definitely.” She leans in to kiss him again, framing his face between her hands. “But if you want a decent conversation, you’re going to have to feed me. It’s been a long time since my last meal and my famished. Dealing with thugs from another planet make a girl hungry.”

“Another... planet?”

“You’ve got the friends in high places who tap into phones and can get a helicopter into Starling City in less than ten minutes. You tell me where these strange looking guys were from if not from another planet.”

“Cleveland?”

Felicity shrugs. “Just as good as my hypothesis. Come on. I’m hungry.”


End file.
